


Every fandom needs a Fuck Or Die fic so here we go

by Pengi



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Felching, Fuck Or Die, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostate Milking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 01:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pengi/pseuds/Pengi
Summary: Heart-shaped herb isn't the only magical plant in Wakanda





	Every fandom needs a Fuck Or Die fic so here we go

It was supposed to be a joke. Well, maybe a bit more than a joke if he's honest with himself. But he never meant for this to happen.

Every healer and elder in The Five Tribes knows about a little purple flower that grows in the mountains and is famous for it's spicy taste and dangerous toxin. It's unique, like many other plants in Wakanda. However it doesn't give the one who drinks it's essence strength or visions. Nor does it have healing powers. Instead it makes the primal urge to mate so strong, that a person could die without a help from someone willing to engage in a wild sensual dance until the urge is sated.

Put in simple words - it's a really strong aphrodisiac. At least that's what he though.

***

"You must try this! It's a traditional drink for special occasions!" He says to the white man he managed to corner away from the others.

"Oh, thanks! Don't mind if I do!" Everett is already a bit tipsy and very pleased with how everything went at the UN. They are celebrating Wakanda opening it's doors to the world.

He was a bit surprised to be invited back, but T'Challa insisted that his role in all of this was considerable enough to earn him a place in Wakanda as well as the kings friendship.

The drink is sweet and spicy with a hint of something he can't identify. Delicious like all the food and drinks he tried today. Everett is truly grateful for the privilege to be here, with people who risk so much to make the world a better place.

Maybe he should go easy on the booze. He already wanted to hug everyone in this room and proclaim his love for Wakanda and it's beautiful people from rooftops.

Everett was never an affectionate drunk but maybe it's just the atmosphere of the evening. The joy and anticipation.

He feels a bit restless and doesn't even notice how he managed to slip from the corner of the room and the person he was talking to and make it all the way to the king.

T'Challa is so beautiful tonight. So regal. So hot.

He feels the heat coming from the king and is drawn to it like a moth to flame. To touch. Just once.

He licks his lips and notices that they are surprisingly dry. He knows that no amount of water will sate this thirst. But those full, beautiful lips could. He can't stop staring at them. The way they form a smile or a word. He doesn't even hear his name spoken but rather reads it on those lips. The loveliest sight ever.

"Everett! Are you okay?" T'Challa is a bit concerned about the man standing before him with a dumbstruck expression on his face.

"Say it again."

"Say what?"

"My name. Please, I want to hear you say my name one more time," Everett pleads.

"Everett! What happened to you? You look overwhelmed."

"I just want to feel your lips. On me. On my name."

T'Challa feels like all the air is gone from his chest. Honestly, he feels like he's blushing like a schoolgirl. Everett's words are music to his ear. If only there weren't so many people around them.

"Everett," T'Challa can't help himself saying it with all the yearning he feels.

Dora Milaje almost stop Everett when he comes closer to the king. The gleaming in his eyes too intense it almost looks threatening. He finds the last of his self-control slip away with every step he takes.

His skin feels like it's on fire. No. It's freezing cold. So cold he is burning. Only T'Challa's touch will warm him. He needs to feel those hands oh his body. Melting the ice that hurts him so much. A little whimper escaped his lips as he began to fall.

"Oh, my dearest heart," whispered T'Challa, wrapping his hands around Everett, trying to steady him.

Thankfully his mother came to aid.

***

Ramonda took the cup Everett dropped and smelled it. Then curseed under her breath.

"The purple flower," she says. The elders are as shocked and concerned as she is.

"Who would do such a thing?" Asks the Mining Tribe Elder.

The plant was only ever used when the couple wanted to prove their bond to each other. And that didn't happen in the last hundred years. Or, she thinks, it might be used as a rather cruel way to kill someone. Granted, the white man was an outsider but he proved to be brave and loyal defender of Wakanda. So why would anyone in this room wish him a slow and agonizing death?

The thing about the purple flower is that it doesn't make you crave physical contact with just anyone, but rather a very specific someone. Someone who's heart sings the same song. A soulmate. And if the soulmate isn't around... Well, there's a reason no one touches that flower anymore.

"What is that? A poison? What's happening to him?" T'Challa is loosing his cool with every passing second.

"Someone gave Everett a drink that could kill him if special someone doesn't... make love to him," Ramonda looked around for Shuri, who thankfully wasn't here. Discussing sex in front of her underaged daughter is not something she ever want to do.

"So he needs sex? Thats it?"

"Just sex won't work. He needs his soulmate."

"What? Okay. Let's think. He wears a wedding ring. Probably has a spouse somewhere. How much time do we have?"

"Hours. Three or four, maybe even five, but the pain will get worse."

"Fuck!" T'Challa doesn't pay a mind to his mother's protest of using the strong language. The man he's holding in his hands, this wonderful man, is in pain and could die if T’Challa fails to find the one who holds his heart. 

Knowing that the man he fell for is already married to someone else was bad enough. Now he has to meet Everett's spouse and see for himself the marital bliss and love they share.

No, he can’t think like that! T'Challa will gladly crave out his own heart if it means Everett get’s to live.

He's about to call for Shuri and ask her to hack the CIA and find the person Everett Ross is married to when he notices something.

Everett is blissfully calm in his hands. In fact, he's rubbing his head on T’Challa’s chest, like a kitten.

Apparently he isn’t the only one who noticed that. His mother speaks first.

"Son, I believe he chose you. He came to you to seek comfort. You must be his soulmate."

"But he's already married! I can't take what isn't mine."

"He is yours though. However it's up to you, what you will choose to do. Claim him as your soulmate and save him or let him die."

The words are cruel, but there isn't time for her son to angst about a ring and someone who might not even exist.

Thankfully T’Challa is not so thick-headed. He picks Everett up bridal style and hurries to his rooms.

Ramonda takes advantage of the fact that they're all gathered there and raises a toast for the happy couple. She's also determined to find out who hurt her future son-in-law.

***

T'Challa practically runs to his rooms. He's freaking out. The thoughts of 'mine' and 'claim' are interrupted by guilt. He will make love to Everett. He dreamt about it so many times. All the ways he wanted to worship that body, all the sounds he wanted Everett to make... But then he'll have to live with the consequences. Everett will hate him for taking advantage. For making him brake the vows he made to someone else. T'Challa will never see him again.

Just one night. He will save Everett and then lose him forever.

***

He feels warmer. The heat of T’Challa's body, his scent and arms that held Everett were melting the ice.

He snuggled closer. Everett knew he's not the tallest man but still the way T'Challa effortlessly carried him like he weights nothing is exciting. The king can probably lift him in the air and drive into his body just like that and Everett will take it, unable to do anything but grab the broad shoulders and hold on for the ride. They wouldn't even need a wall to lean on. Just those strong arms holding him, opening his legs wider, impaling him on T'Challa's cock. He needed to feel that cock inside him now! How huge and hot it is. Driving the cold away, driving him mad with pleasure.

Everett moaned and shuddered, wrapping his hands around T’Challa's neck.

"Please. I need you. Want to feel you inside me."

T'Challa almost tripped.

"Soon, my dearest."

Those words and Everett’s beautiful eyes hooded with desire made him ache with want. He also had to slow the pace. Running with a raging boner and horny american in his arms was a bit of a challenge. For a moment he even considered just taking Everett right here. Ripping off his clothes and mounting the smaller man, claiming him. He is a king after all and can do whatever he wants to in his palace! But the though that it'll be their first and probably last time together made him want to do it properly. Just a little more time until they're in his bedroom. He wanted Everett spread on his sheets. Moaning, coming undone. Just a few more minutes!

***

Queen Mother was absolutely furious.

She would've gladly grabbed this big idiots ear and gave him a good trashing. What was he thinking, using the purple flower to play a joke on their quest! Not even knowing what that plant does! If M'Baku's mother was here she certainly would've spanked him in front of everyone.

But he is a Tribe leader so they settle for a few strong words and a promise that he will come clean to the king. Ramonda only hoped that her son will be far too happy after the night with his soulmate to punish M'Baku.

Somehow she felt that M'Baku was disappointed not only by the fact that Everett could've died if his soulmate wasn't here, but also because he wasn't the one who turned out be that soulmate. Who knew that a kitten was able to captivate a panther _and_ a gorilla.

But she wasn't concerned that her son might have a competition. The trial of a purple flower was nothing less than a marriage ritual. Tomorrow her son and his soulmate will be all but married by Wakandan law. Which was good. No one will dare to oppose their union.

***

"T'Challa?"

Everett's distressed by the loss of contact. But when he looked up he saw the king standing next to the bed. Oh, he's lying on the bed. That's good. Would be even better if he was naked. Suddenly he felt so hot he wanted all his clothes gone immediately. Thankfully T'Challa had the same idea. As he watched buttons of his shirt flying in all directions Everett was blissfully content. Finally those hands were touching his skin.

T'Challa swiftly tore the clothes off Everett. Then he began to strip himself, eager to explore what he previously only dreamt of. But no dream was as good as the sight before him. Everett naked, skin glowing from sweat, cock hard and already leaking, eyes dark and full of want, licking and biting his lips. T'Challa wanted to taste them. Taste all of him.

With an impatient groan he send sandals flying off his feet and finally joined Everett on the bed.

He kissed Everett and licked into his mouth wasting no time. His hands restlessly teased and stroked Everett, drawing the most delicious sounds when T'Challa played with his nipples.

Everett rubbed agains T'Challa, demanding more contact. The slide of their skin was a balm that soothed him. But it was not enough.

"Please, I need more!"

"Shh... I got you."

T'Challa kissed his way down, settling between the legs that were spread wide open to accommodate him.

His mouth watered as he pressed his face closer. The smell of Everett's arousal made him moan with want.

T'Challa hoped that it'll be enough. A blowjob will be easier to explain to whomever they were hurting by this affair. At least he wanted to believe that. He'll pour all his love and want into this and it will be enough.

He will cherish these memories, every second, every sound, the taste, the weight and feel of Everett in his mouth. And when Everett leaves T'Challa will still have this night.

But now he had Everett writhing oh his sheets, eager for his touch. As he licked the shaft he could feel Everett's hips shacking, trying to seek more contact. When he closed his lips around the tip and sucked it lightly he heard what can only be described as a wail. Oh, how hot was that?

T'Challa is unable to resist a bit of a tease and blows slightly on the head. As a result Everett gripped the sheets tighter and surrendered himself completely. Good boy.

T'Challa alternated between soft licks and hard sucks, sometimes taking it deep into his mouth, until he felt the head hitting his throat. He knew exactly what Everett needed but selfishly wanted it to last. So he did everything he could think of, using his hands, lips and tongue.

Everett is a mess, whining and pleading for more. He shamelessly begged to be taken, to be fucked, to be used. The mouth around his cock felt fantastic but he wanted more. Everett wanted to be filled until he gagged on T'Challa's huge dick. Until he was thoroughly used and filled with come.

He almost came just from the things Everett said, the way he begged for it. When T'Challa saw tears in those beautiful blue eyes he couldn't resist anymore.

He let go of the cock with a wet pop and grabbed the lube, coating his fingers liberally. He teased Everett's tight opening making it wet and glossy. Irresistible.

When he squeezed a finger inside he felt tight muscles clench around it, then loosen up a bit. T'Challa quickly added another finger, spreading them wide inside the channel. When his fingers started to move easily he began to fuck Everett with fast deep strokes.

A loud cry told T'Challa that he found the prostate. He added third finger and true fun began. He toyed with the gland applying light pressure to it only to jab it the next second, then rubbed the prostate between his fingers. His other hand was on Everett's perineum massaging it from outside. 

Everett's cock was leaking on his stomach while T'Challa milked him without mercy. Any other time that would've been enough to make Everett come all over himself but now it just wasn't what he ached for. 

"I need you inside me! Need your cock. Please!" 

T'Challa is far too gone to do anything but oblige. He lubed himself, hissing from the friction and grabbed the base of his cock tightly making sure he won't come from the first few thrusts. He wanted, needed this to last.

He lifted Everett's feet on his shoulders and settled between his thighs. Nudging the head of his cock at the opening he felt how wet and soft it was. All stretched and ready for him.

T'Challa pressed in and lost himself in the sensation. Everett's hole swallowed him hungrily. Just a few thrusts and he's nested in all the way to the root. He stopped there for a few moments, just rocking his hips from side to side. However stretched and eager his lover might be, T'Challa is big. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Everett.

When he felt that Everett was ready he began to move, quickly finding the perfect rhythm. Deep and powerful thrusts that made Everett hold tight onto the sheets. 

He was tempted to look down. To see that hole open wide around his cock, filled to the brim, clenching, trying to milk him dry. Instead he looked at Everett's face trying to catch his every expression. The way those eyes closed in pleasure, mouth going slack only to be licked and bitten in an attempt to hold in a particularly loud moan when T'Challa hit all the right places. 

Everett was never so full. No one fucked him with such passion and determination before. He begged to be used like a dirty whore and now T'Challa was giving it to him. Pounding his ass like his life depended on it. Oh, wait, it actually did. Everett only now realized that the hunger that drove him mad could've killed him if it weren't for T'Challa's dick. He made Everett see stars.

He knew it could be better though.

Everett lowered his legs from T'Challa's shoulders and wraped them around his middle. Then he swiftly pushed up and turned them over.

T'Challa didn’t saw what hit him. One moment he was in Everett and the next he's on his back, surprised by the other man's speed and strength.

"Never underestimate a CIA agent, baby!"

Everett kissed him briefly on the lips. Then reached down for T'Challa's cock and lowered himself on it.

Now it was perfect.

He rode T'Challa with wild abandon, taking what he wanted.

T'Challa had sex before but it was never like this. The shameless way Everett fucked himself with T'Challa's dick was so captivating he couldn't tore his eyes away. 

His hands were wandering again, taking advantage of his position, playing with Everett's nipples. At first he wanted to stroke the hard, leaking cock that bounces in front of him. But in the end T'Challa greedily decided that he wanted to see Everett come untouched. 

And Everett did just that, shaking, moaning and coating them both with his sperm, the last few drops of it sliding down his softening shaft.

Everett got up, letting T'Challa's still hard cock slip out of his ass. T'Challa thought it was over. But then Everett positioned himself on the bed on all fours, ass in the air, inviting and tempting. 

"What are you waiting for, Your Majesty?" He asked impatiently, arching his back even more. Just because he came doesn't mean he had enough of that cock. 

With lustful moan T'Challa mounted Everett and showed his dick all the way in with one vigorous thrust.

It was his turn to take pleasure from Everett's body and he did it with delight. He slammed inside a dozen or so times and before he felt orgasm hit him like a train. 

He spilled his seed deep inside Everett, thrusting a few more times before he got soft. 

When he finally pulled out of the abused hole it looked well and truly fucked. Red and puffy, glistening with come and lube, clenching desperately trying to adjust to the sudden emptiness. So perfectly filthy. 

He pushed Everett's asscheeks apart and went down, lapping at his own come. Everett's hole was so open it almost gaped. T'Challa licked inside, sealing his lips around it and sucking lightly. It felt so wet and sloppy, almost like eating out a pussy. T'Challa could do this for hours but Everett started to shake and whine, too spent and sensitive to take more. T'Challa kissed Everett's ass for the last time and collapses on the bed.

Everett gathered what little strength he had left and lied down on his side, facing T'Challa. The last thing he did before sleep overcame him was wrap his hand around T'Challa.

*** 

T'Challa woke up to the most beautiful sight on Earth. The sated smile on Everett's lips made him look like sex personified. For a moment he enjoyed it but then his eyes caught a glimpse of the ring on Everett's hand.

Fuck! With all the lust and want he absolutely forgot that this beautiful man wasn't his. The things he did to Everett... It went far beyond just helping a friend.

He bolted from the bed trying not to look at Everett. T'Challa already saw a huge hickey on his pale neck, Bast knows where else they could be. Or how many. 

Everett was surprised at how quickly T'Challa left the bed. Until he wasn't. Wasn’t surprised that is. Of course T'Challa didn't want anything to do with him after last night. After Everett threw himself at the king. The way he behaved. Oh SweetBabyJesus the things he said! Everett was absolutely mortified.

And absolutely naked! He looked around for his clothes but only saw a pile of what was his best shirt and trousers now shredded to pieces. How did that happen? Was he attacked by a wild animal? Oh. Right. The Black Panther. Neither wild or animal but apparently just as capable of destruction. Without his clothes the next best thing was the blanket he was lying on. Absolutely filthy blanket covered in all kinds of bodily fluid. Well, beggars cannot be choosers. He wrapped himself in a blanket and was somewhat ready to face the king and apologize profusely. 

"Hm," Everett cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, I can't find words to say how sorry I am for what happened between us. I can only assure you that you will never see me again and I won't tell a living soul about what happened here."

His words forced T'Challa out of the stupor he was in. Guilt ridden, self-flagellating stupor.

T'Challa already knew that Everett will never want to see him again but the decision to keep what happened last night a secret from his spouse was surprising. He never took Everett Ross for a coward. 

"I know that I have no right to intervene even further into your marriage but if you want I can explain everything to your spouse," he offered.

"What spouse?" Everett was taken aback.

"The one you are married to?"

"The only thing I'm married to is my job. And even that is not true anymore. I spent more time caring and worrying about Wakanda that I did about my work for the past few month." 

"But your wedding ring!"

"Oh, that? It's just a standard issue CIA identification ring. It holds a serial number and my name. Way more convenient than a dog-tag but basically has the same purpose. Also comes in handy when I try to pass for a civilian," he fidgeted a bit with the ring before taking it off. Maybe T'Challa wanted to have a look at it?

He's an idiot! Shuri will never let him live this down. Everett might, if T'Challa's convincing enough, but his sister will absolutely use it at their wedding. And all their anniversaries. Forever. 

And he deserved nothing less. Just to think that he almost lost the chance to be with his soulmate because of some trinket. 

"Just to be absolutely crystal clear because apparently I'm a moron: You are not married and don't have a significant other?"

"Well, actually I have a significant other."

Fuck him sideways that's one hell of a train wreck! T'Challa wanted to laugh and cry and probably never see the light of day again.

Upon seeing the look on T'Challa's face Everett hurried to reassure him.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry that was a terrible joke. It's you. My significant other is you!"

"Keep that up and I won't be any longer," said T'Challa dryly as he crossed the room to get to Everett. When he hugged him, however, his face was lit by the biggest and dopiest smile. 

"Mm, shower? I'm absolutely filthy."

"Yes you are," said T'Challa and dropped Everett's blanket on the floor. "My filthy, sexy, perfect soulmate."


End file.
